Showing posts with label siu yuk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label siu yuk. Show all posts

Monday, January 12, 2015

More roast pork magic

One of the best ways to deal with an aching head — be it from a cold, your allergies, or a long night on the town — is a hot bowl of congee. It is soothing and delicious and full of savory bits that will restore your faith in the human race. Of course, if you are not feeling well, even the idea of waiting for breakfast can be daunting. But congee is easy to make ahead of time, and it only needs to be microwaved until it is boiling hot before the tasty bits are added.

Most traditional recipes for this classic congee use blanched or stir-fried pork strips, and that was the way I always made it, too. And then, on my birthday last month, we headed to my favorite Cantonese deli for brunch. I ordered a big bowl of this soothing congee and found shreds of roast pork waiting for me. What a great birthday present that was.

Leftover nirvana
Called siu yuk 燒肉 in Cantonese, this roast pork is not at all sweet and red like char siu, but rather has a golden, deeply fried skin that is crackly and delicious when hot. The cut is from a big side of pork, so it is not too fat, and yet it’s buttery enough to be juicy and tender. Most Cantonese delis will have this hanging in the front window alongside the roasted ducks and chickens, and I like to take a hunk home with me for later snacking. 

This is one of my absolute favorite go-to recipes now that I know what to do with all the delicious shreds at the bottom of the box. Even the bones get used, so keep any that you find. And don’t forget the skin... it adds a wonderful layer of texture. Other than that, personalize this as you like, with crispy cruller (youtiao) slices instead of the peanuts, cilantro in place of the green onions, and even some fresh eggs dribbled into the hot congee instead of the preserved ones.


My favorite... now even better
Pork and preserved egg congee
Pídàn shòuròu zhōu 皮蛋瘦肉粥
Guangdong
Serves 4 to 6

Congee:
1 cup broken jasmine rice
½ teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon fresh peanut or vegetable oil
17 cups water
1 tablespoon finely chopped ginger
2 tablespoons mild rice wine
Any bones from the roast pork

The tasty bits:
4 ounces (or more) shredded roast pork
2 preserved eggs (pidan)
More sea salt or light soy sauce, optional
1 green onion, trimmed
2 tablespoons toasted peanuts
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve until the water runs clear, and then place it in a heavy-bottomed, large pot. Mix the salt and oil into the rinsed rice and let it sit for at least an hour so that it gently seasons and tenderizes the grains.

2. While the rice is marinating, shred the pork into smallish bits while reserving the bones and discarding any large pieces of fat. Shred the skin into thin pieces while you’re at it. Slice the green onion into fine rounds and coarsely chop the peanuts.

Ready to serve
3. Add the water to the pot, stir, and bring to a full boil before lowering the heat to a gentle simmer; add the ginger, rice wine, and any bones that you might have from the roast pork. Cook the congee for 40 or so minutes, stirring occasionally and always scraping the bottom of the pan, until the grains have bloomed and the liquid has thickened. You may also use an automatic rice cooker with a “porridge setting.” The congee will be ready when the grains have blossomed into soft little puffs, but don’t overcook the rice to the point that it becomes gluey. It’s important to be able to see each individual grain and to be able to feel them as they gracefully glide across your tongue.  The most important key to a perfect bowl of congee is cooking it to the exact point of doneness — everything else is secondary.

4. Pluck out and discard the bones. Toss in the pork, skin, and preserved eggs. Simmer these for around a minute just to heat them through and turn them a bit softer. Taste the congee and adjust the seasoning as needed; it may need more salt or a touch of soy sauce, depending upon the saltiness of the pork. Ladle the congee out among as many bowls as you wish, and then sprinkle the tops with the green onions, peanuts, and black pepper. Serve piping hot.


Monday, January 5, 2015

Heavenly deli leftovers

If your idea of a good time is to eat in a Cantonese deli, join the club. I love few things as much as a place with birds and pig parts hanging in the window, and my favorite restaurants include a handful of places that know how to make the perfect roast duck, char siu (sweet Cantonese pork), and siu yuk, or roast pork (called shaorou in Mandarin). The problem is that I always order too much, and so I usually haul lots of leftovers home. 

Roast duck and char siu don’t need much work to make them shine again the next day (just heat them up on a broiler tray in the oven at 350°F), but siu yuk’s skin will soften and the meat will congeal a bit, so I’ve come up with a couple of strategies to enjoy them in whole new ways. 
Taro plus siu yuk

One of them is this, a riff on a traditional Hakka treat that usually calls for fresh pork belly. Since siu yuk is made with the whole side of a pig, it’s a perfect fit, and easy to boot.


Cantonese roast pork with taro
Yùtóu shāoròu 芋頭燒肉
Guangdong
Serves 4 to 6

Taro and pork:
1 pound (more or less) mature taro
1 cup frying oil (used all right if it smells fresh)
8 ounces (or so) siu yuk
Slice the taro

Sauce:
¼ cup thinly sliced fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 green onions, trimmed and chopped
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons mild rice wine
2 cubes fermented bean curd (doufuru; see Tip)
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon five-spice powder
1 cup boiling water, divided
Chopped cilantro for garnish, optional

1. If you are allergic to raw taro, wear gloves while working with it. (I do.) Use a potato peeler to remove the skin, trim off any damaged areas, and rinse the taro before patting it very dry with a paper towel. Slice the taro into pieces that are about an inch wide all around. Pour the wok into a wok, set it over high heat, and add about half of the taro to the oil when it starts to shimmer. Reduce the heat to medium and stir the taro occasionally as it fries. When one side is hard and even puffs up a little, turn that piece over. Remove the taro with a Chinese spider and chopsticks, shaking off most of the oil as you go, and place it in a clean work bowl. If your deli has not cut up the siu yuk for you, slice it into pieces around the same size as the taro; large bones can be cut out and reserved for something else (see next week's recipe!). Have a wide, heatproof, rimmed plate ready. Arrange the taro and pork in an overlapping pattern (pork-taro-pork-taro) in the plate, and if you have extra taro, slip it in between some other slices. Place any awkward-looking pieces in the center of the dish and cover them with prettier ones.
Fried taro slices

2. Next, make the sauce: Drain out all but 1 tablespoon of the oil in your wok and place it over high heat. Add the ginger, garlic, and green onion to the hot oil and stir-fry them for a few seconds to release their fragrance. Stir in the rice wine, fermented bean curd, sugar, five-spice, and ½ cup boiling water. Mash the bean curd so that it dissolves well and bring the sauce to a boil. Pour this over the pork and taro.

3. Place the pork and taro in a steamer and steam this for 1½ hours, adding more water to the steamer as needed — this dish can be made ahead of time up to this point, cooled, and refrigerated. Pour the extra ½ cup of boiling water into the pork dish and steam it for another 30 minutes. The taro should be soft but not falling apart at this point. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning as needed. Sprinkle with chopped cilantro, if you like. Serve hot.
Cantonese-style doufuru

Tip

I like to use Cantonese-style doufuru here. It's a bit funkier, not at all sweet, and adds a nice edge to the seasoning. I also prefer it when there are flecks of chili in the sauce, as this adds just a suggestion of heat to this dish. Taiwan's Hwang Ryh Shiang 黃日香 brand is the one I usually get, as it is very creamy and has good balance. It comes from Daxi 大溪, a village that lies not too far from Taipei, and for some reason the doufuru from that place is almost always spectacular.